Pressing Pearls
by whistlesymphony
Summary: A continuation of Mockingjay's final chapter before the epilogue, Katniss returns to District 12 where she is made to choose, once and for all, who it is she truly can't survive without.
1. Chapter 1

i'd like to make it known, that i don't honestly know the layout of panem. all i'm really certain of is that district twelve is set somewhere in the appalachian mountains. so when i make any reference to the structure of the civilization, please understand that this is all fiction and that i'm only human. i can't remember everything. i welcome critiques, especially since this is my first time sharing publicly and my first time writing in some time.

-ws

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><p>It was probably close to four in the morning when I woke up screaming for Prim. The nightmares were subsiding significantly, but I still woke from time to time in a cold sweat, reaching out for the little girl with her shirt untucked.<p>

It only took a moment for me to realize I wasn't alone, to feel the arms closing around my middle and the warm breath of another to take the hairs on the back of my neck by surprise. One would question how anyone could stomach being in the same room, trying to sleep, while I writhed and howled into the early hours of the morning. But Peeta was wide awake, his bright blue eyes peering at me over my shoulder. It took a minute for me to completely understand what he was saying through my pounding ears: "It's alright, I'm here..."

Why _is_ he here? After a moment of staring wide-eyed at the boy in my bed, I remembered having begged him to stay with me, fighting the tears to avoid drawing pity, knowing if I tried to sleep alone for even one more night I'd probably go insane. I clung to those nights on the train, the few before the Quarter Quell, knowing those nights I slept more peacefully and free of horror than I probably ever had.

I remember finally agreeing to let him plant primrose bushes along the side of the house – it took him at least a week to convince me it would do me some good – only to find that seeing them outside my window everyday lead to the horrible feeling that I helped orchestrate the end of my sister's life. It had been at least a month, maybe two since the end of the war, when I finally agreed to it. The nightmares had slowed, and I figured it might be nice to see the blossoming shrubs. But as soon as the last patch of dirt was padded in sleep became scarce, and when I did reach it I was staring into the horrified eyes of my sister as tiny silver parachutes ignited in a grand show of fireworks behind her.

Peeta's eyes are still trained on mine, whispering over and over that I'm safe here. I feel my body relax slowly, falling deeper into his arms, but my eyes never leave the blue orbs above me.

"Nightmare." I say stupidly.

"I know." I feel his hand slowly start rubbing my arm. The sweat pouring off of me doesn't seem to bother him, but as he gets up to open the window I can see the front of his undershirt has been soaked. The cool breeze makes me shiver, but it feels better than nothing. Lately, Peeta's been better. Every once in a while I catch him gripping tightly to something sturdy nearby, repeating "Not real, not real, not real..." until his breathing slows. I watch him move smoothly now, the Peeta I knew before the Quell, capturing the clear moonlight in his golden hair. I roll on to my side and start to throw my legs over the side of the bed to get up, only to have my arm pulled back. I'm rolled onto my opposite side instead, my head resting on Peeta's outstretched arm and my face mere inches from his. I hesitate for a moment before I feel my body curl into his. "I'm right here," he repeats. The comfort of those words finally sinks in, now that my mind is clear.

I want to ask him why he stays. I want to know why because it seems so stressful having to deal with constantly questioning reality. He could easily have moved to another district, if not the Capitol, and taken a position of high rank, or even just a job that paid well. Instead he chose to move back here, to twelve, where he took over rebuilding the bakery he'd someday own. He chose to live where I'd forever haunt him, threading his day-to-day life with doubt and an unbearable need to kill me, as implanted in his mind by the previous president.

As though he can read my questions through my expression he adds, "I'm here for you."

I know I shouldn't, but my mouth reacts before my mind can stop it. "Why?"

His reaction surprises me, because my question doesn't surprise him at all. He doesn't answer, though, just watches me for what feels like an eternity. "Because I can't survive without you."

The words sting more than they should. I remember pretending to sleep in the basement of a stylist's shop, listening to Peeta's exchange with my best friend. Listening to Gale say I'd only choose to love whoever I couldn't survive without...

The words fall on my ears like rocks, and a sinking sensation takes over my chest. I wriggle a little in an unexplainable discomfort. Peeta notices and, in one smooth motion, pulls me closer to him. He hugs me tightly, and for a moment I'm not sure if this is his apology for such a low blow. But how could he know I heard that? Did he know I was awake on that pile of furs? His deep sigh relaxes me, somehow. Maybe he just _meant_ it. Maybe his life now revolves around mine. A warm feeling replaces the sinking sensation, and I can't help but let a soft smile play my lips.

I don't remember exactly when I fell asleep, but I do remember feeling him kiss my forehead before the world went black.

* * *

><p>I woke with a start later that morning. Not because I was having a nightmare, or any dream for that matter, but because my body recognized Peeta's absence. I sat up, frantically searching the room for him. It took a moment to register that no matter where he was he would be safe, and instead of finding him I found that my pajamas had been stripped off, leaving me in my underclothes, and fresh sheets on the bed. I must've slept hard. While wondering how he'd changed the sheets without my waking I made my way into the bathroom. The sweating had matted my hair and my undershirt stuck to me in various places. A long red crease streaks across my right cheek from my lack of movement. I shower, standing in the warm rain taking in the events of the previous night.<p>

"Because I can't survive without you..."

Once out of the shower and thoroughly dry I dress plainly, braiding my hair as I make my way down the stairs. About halfway down I'm greeted with the warm smell of breakfast, the pitter-pattering feet of a young child, and a few mumbles from Greasy Sae. It must be the weekend, if Sae's granddaughter is here. One of the first things the Capitol construction crews set out to rebuild was the school, and after only a month of construction a new gleaming building stood where the old one had burned to rubble. There was a new feeling about this school, though. A feeling that students would spend less time learning about the rebellion that lead to the Hunger Games and more about the one in which the Mockingjay overthrew President Snow.

"Good morning." I say, swerving to avoid Buttercup as he darts across the floor. I can't quite make out what he's got in his mouth, but it's enough for him to feel he needs to hide with it. I make my way to the dining room, where plates have already been set out on the table. There's obviously one for me and two for Greasy Sae and her granddaughter. It took a few weeks to finally convince Sae that she deserves to eat here with me whenever she cooks for me. She agreed, finally, but still refuses to move in. She lives happily with a close friend across town in what once was the Seam. I ease my way into the kitchen, but as I pass the dining room table I notice the addition of a fourth place setting. "Who is that plate for?" I try to wipe the frustration of having someone invited into my home without my knowing from my tone. Sae catches it, anyway.

"You'll be happier once you figure it out," she says, never looking away from the pot she's stirring. It isn't until I catch sight of fresh squirrel on the counter that I piece together who will be joining us.

I stop, frozen in the middle of the kitchen, not because I fear for my life but because I fear for...something else. I can't put my finger on exactly what this uneasy feeling means, but something deep inside keeps repeating that my mental state is still just as unstable as District Thirteen's medical bracelets had declared months ago. Seeing him now could start something and I don't know that I'd be able to control it.

As if cued by my sudden amount of caution, the front door opens. "I have a few more squirrels, and I managed to snare a rabbit." Gale's voice trails off as he realizes he's not speaking only to Greasy Sae. I'm not certain what he was expecting, but his expression shows that my stiff, blank stare isn't something he'd considered. "Morning..." he says, as if the word itself could set off a lethal reaction.

I realize my stare is probably being taken as rude and quickly recover. "Morning." I see his shoulders relax. Obviously I'm not going to attack him. "Hunting without me?"

"Heard you had a fairly eventful night, didn't wanna wake you." So he's talked to Peeta.

I don't know how to ask how long he'll be here. It's not something you're supposed to ask your best friend when they surprise you with a visit. Instead I smile, trying to be coy, but find myself without a comeback. "Thanks, I guess," fumbles out of my mouth at some point, and my smile is matched. I move forward to help carry in some of the game, but Gale sees the gesture differently. In one swooping motion my head is at his chest, his warm arms wrapped around me. Maybe this is what I was really looking for, because my arms end up around him before I actually know whats happening.

"I've missed you," he says. I feel the game bag being taken from his hands, probably by Sae to make the moment a little easier to handle.

I retreat, just enough to look at him. I could tell him I've missed him, too, but what would he really hear? "How's two?"

He lets go and we move to the kitchen where a warm brunch awaits. "It's alright. We're clearing out the Nut at the moment. It's a lot of grunt work, but we need to start somewhere." He senses my irritation at the subject of the Nut. I may have been the Mockingjay, the posterchild of the revolution, but that didn't make the atrocities I supposedly enforced any less unnerving. Especially not the avalanche that trapped thousands of workers inside the great hollow mountain, with only the hopes of an undamaged train tunnel as escape. Hundreds died that day, and though it wasn't my idea or my plan, I still feel responsibility weighing on my shoulders. And a tinge of pain where the bullet grazed my armor.

The effort to rebuild the districts was set in motion immediately after the fall of Snow. Even as I stood poised to send an arrow through his skull, people began moving and disposing of ruined architecture to make way for the new buildings. The only lull in the operation was when my arrow, intended for the snake-like president's brain, travelled through the heart of President Coin, a woman I felt would do no better than the malicious man she was succeeding. Even then, though, commanders ordered construction, knowing that whether or not I was executed the new president would expect the districts up and functioning in a fair amount of time.

In the months following my return to District Twelve the mysterious thirteenth district revealed an extensive collection of artifacts from the days before Panem. Some of which were books. They housed blueprints and historical facts about the government that only failed due to a collapse in economy and substantial amounts of pollution, leading to something of an anarchy and the eventual "apocalypse." The few survivors of the warfare were what brought Panem into existence, vulnerable and seeking direction. This began the downward spiral, where the Capitol slowly gained control over each of its districts, slowly creating something the books call a dictatorship.

Thirteen issued copies of the blueprints through each of the districts, and plans to copy the history books so we as a people can learn the ways of the government that fell from lack of unity. Some districts are even debating taking up the boundary lines the former North American countries had laid out, giving each district whichever states or provinces they fell upon. The matter is still up for discussion as the ever picky Capitol citizens, who still cling dearly to their strange lifestyle, feel somewhat odd about the names Nebraska and Kansas.

Gale's current job, as he explained, is to lead the effort to further connect the districts with one another. He and a small team, including a District Three victor named Beetee who specializes in electrical wiring, are currently trying to clear away rubble and useless equipment from the Nut so as to make it into an updated communications hub, where signals can meet and be freely passed between the districts. Beetee, being older than the rest of the crew, spends most of his time sketching out ideas for how to string the wires, Gale adds.

I realize I've spent the entire conversation staring at Gale. My stew sits cold on the table, untouched, while Gale is scraping the last bit of gravy out of his bowl with a bun. The silence from his story ending makes me feel self-conscious and, despite my lack of appetite, I spoon a bit into my mouth and shove a piece of bread in, swallowing it all at once. He gives me a look of confusion as the cold lump causes me apparent discomfort.

"So," I say after a long gulp of water. "How long are you in town?"

He was waiting for this question. He smiles, I guess because he's pleased with himself. "Well, the job I'm here for doesn't really have a time limit. I'm supposed to be plotting out areas that could work for certain versions of Beetee's plans. He has two he's particularly proud of, and one he's taken from old photos Thirteen sent him."

He's directed the conversation elsewhere, but I don't lose track. "So you'll be here a while then?"

"However long I want."

I smile. I'm not sure what kind of smile, but I can say I'm genuinely happy to hear I'll have my best friend back. It's not long before we decide that we'll be taking Sundays back for hunting, meeting at our original rendezvous point. We discuss our weapons, the game, the springtime weather we both adore. For a moment, we're not in Victor's Village. I'm not a lost cause, tainted by war and murder. Gale isn't the man who could've had a hand in the scheme that ended up killing a girl we both cared for. We're just Katniss and Gale, planning for our weekend hunt.

Until a knock came at the door I'd almost completely forgotten the presence of Greasy Sae's granddaughter. She rushed across the room, mumbling "knock knock" the entire way. Still mumbling, more something that sounded like "Come in, come in," she pulled the door open. Basket of cheese buns in hand, Peeta entered the house. His eyes locked on Gale's instantly. It was then that I fell from my dream world. It finally dawned on me, that strange sense of fear I'd felt earlier. The emotional fear that the two men I care most about would once again expect me to choose between them.


	2. Chapter 2

i have to be honest. i didn't re-read this before i posted it. i'm so tired, though, and feel like it's good enough at this point. i might re-read and edit it more thoroughly later, but at this point i feel like it's adequate. also, if you'll notice, i'm very set on developing peeta and katniss' romance. i will include gale repeatedly, and can guarantee he'll get an ending just like peeta got in this chapter. they'll both have a few, really. so if you're feeling the amount of one romance is getting a bit overwhelming, understand this is how i see it happening, and i write as i go.

-ws

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><p>I had worried, seeing Peeta enter my house with Gale sitting at my dining room table. I'm not sure why I worried...wasn't it always my plan to avoid marriage? Love, in general? But now, with the Hunger Games and the tyrannical President Snow long gone, how could I not? Wasn't it something of a necessity?<p>

I pinched myself inconspicuously at the thought. How could I treat something that both Peeta and Gale felt so strongly about as something I needed to do out of obligation? I'd never been the real soft, lovey-dovey type, though, so it didn't seem fair that either of them would expect me to suddenly change since the war ended and the Mockingjay returned to a somewhat normal life.

Peeta set the basket in the center of the table. No sooner had he taken his seat across from Gale, he was greeted by a bowl of stew. Sae quickly left the room, probably to avoid getting in the middle of any deep, heart-felt discussion. Gale stared at his empty bowl silently, and I watched from the head of the table as the two avoided each others' eyes.

Peeta was the first to break the silence, and shocked us all when he directed the conversation toward Gale. "So, you're visiting from two. How long are you staying?"

"However long I need to," Gale said. I wasn't looking, but from the sound of his voice I could tell he was staring at me.

"He's here to help Beetee," I added, my gaze now far away from either of them. "They're trying to string wires through the districts." I could feel my voice trailing, having not been paying full attention to Gale's story while he'd spoken a few moments ago.

"Great. We'll finally have connections to one another aside from just telephones...and television..." Peeta's voice sounds sarcastic, and I could tell the conversation was going downhill.

"We're doing so much more than that, though. We're trying to find a way to use the wires to link each district to the other districts via transportation, and telecommunication..." Peeta was right. Why would we need a new wiring system? We were already connected. "Aside from the individual connections we have to the Capitol, that are primarily controlled there."

I could start to see Gale's point, but it was still clear that Peeta was in control of the discussion. He nodded, almost condescendingly, and continued to pick at his breakfast.

* * *

><p>The next day, I didn't hear from either Peeta or Gale. Peeta had excused himself long before I had the chance to ask whether or not he'd be sleeping in my bed, something I wasn't entirely certain how to do with Gale present, so I knew immediately that his trust in me was faltering. Gale had left shortly after Peeta without answering my question about where he was staying. My offer to have him stay in one of the spare rooms went unheard also, and part of me was grateful about that.<p>

It was Sunday (Greasy Sae had informed me that my assumption was correct and it was, in fact, the weekend), and Gale hadn't shown up at the rendezvous. After two hours of waiting I figured he wouldn't be showing up anytime soon, so I decided to hunt without him, assuring myself that he'd only just arrived in town yesterday, he probably wouldn't have the time to hunt. He probably had meant _next _Sunday. This kept my spirits level, at least for a while. I returned to the meadow with a game bag filled with squirrels and a pair of wild dogs.

Despite the fact that the electric fence was long gone I still walked across town from the Victors Village to enter the forest through the meadow near where my home in the Seam had once been. As I re-entered town in the same place, I could see that a survey team had begun measuring the city square and surrounding areas. The only reason I could tell them apart from the construction volunteers was the brown vests with the Mockingjay emblem I'd made so popular sewn to the back. I didn't want to get too close for fear of being recognized and drawn into conversation about my victory over Snow and my still-debated takedown of President Coin. However, upon looking closer, I could see Gale pointing this way and that, directing a small portion of the crew over toward what once was the Justice Building. I stopped moving, afraid he'd notice me, only to have my fears met with a shocked glance, and a blatant turn of the head. I ran the rest of the way to Victor's Village.

Once back at the house I stripped off my boots to avoid tracking dirt into the hallway. It wasn't until I actually entered the hallway that I started to take caution. At the end of the hallway there are three doors – one that leads to the kitchen, one that leads to the dining room, and one that leads to the living room. All three are in some way connected on the opposite side of the hallway, and there is an archway that leads to the family room and the staircase ahead of those three doors. From where I was standing, I could easily see that the door leading in to the living room was now slightly ajar.

I moved cautiously, setting the game bag down about halfway up the hall. In my own house I found myself walking without sound so as not to alert whoever had taken up residence on my couch. It couldn't be Sae. She only ever cooked breakfast and dinner. Lunch was my own responsibility, and she never stayed past noon. Especially not to spend time in my living room. I pressed the door open slowly, only to kick myself for even taking so much care in not alerting my "guest."

"Welcome home, sweetheart."

"What are you doing on my couch?" Haymitch obviously did not find this greeting suitable, but stood up regardless.

"You didn't think you'd seen the last of me, did you?" Of course not, his house was directly next door to mine. I could smell alcohol, but not as much as usual. Apparently, whatever he was in my house for was serious, otherwise...well, he wouldn't have been there at all. That's what telephones are for. I'm not sure if he was seeking a hug, but he approached me with his arms wide. "Been hunting?" So he was hungry. One of his open arms draped over my shoulders, turning me toward the door, the other directed me to the door as if to tell me I should be across the hall, in the kitchen, cooking lunch.

It wasn't until we were both finished with our lunch that we spoke again. I hadn't realized just how hungry I was until I saw the bowl of food I'd made. "So, you never answered my question. How is it you ended up on my couch, Haymitch?" I asked, finishing my last bite of a leftover cheese roll.

"I have something important to discuss with you," He said, removing the napkin from his collar and setting it on the table. I raised my eyebrows, obviously peeved that he was being so redundant. "About the Mockingjay."

I hadn't intended to be so obnoxious, but my fork clashed loudly against my plate as I set it down.

"I understand you thought it was over, being the face of the revolution, especially after what you did to Alma-"

"She was no better than Snow." I interjected, thoroughly annoyed.

"I know that. No one likes having a price on their head," He was right. I would've been dead before I ever made it back to twelve had she remained alive. "But since the people have taken your side so swiftly, President Paylor would like you to...make appearances, of sorts."

"Tour."

"Essentially."

A Victory Tour. Only this time, it wouldn't be for winning the Hunger Games. It would be for winning the war. I stared at my mentor for what felt like ages, hoping he'd break down in laughter and tell me th whole thing was a joke. Just a way for an old man to get a kick out of his otherwise uneventful life. His face remained stern, though. Still, I refused to say anything.

"You didn't think you'd just fall out of the spotlight, did you?" He asked, pushing his plate forward as if expecting a waiter to come scoop it up. "You're still the Mockingjay, and your stunt with President Coin needs to be recognized and recovered."

I felt my face scrunch in disbelief. And then it hit me. "Will I be traveling alone?"

His face contorted and I wasn't certain if it's was a smug look or one of discomfort. I could tell, though, that it meant I would not be alone. "Peeta will be traveling with you." Of course. "The audience wants to know what drove him to beg you for a cease-fire."

"Do you really think it's smart to put him back into that world?"

I could see the confusion, that slowly made way for realization. "It might do him some good. But we'll have professionals watching him." Still displeased, I stood and began to clear the table. I knew better than to dislike Haymitch who was only passing on the message, but it didn't make the situation any easier to bear.

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><p>I woke swatting invisible flames, screaming out to Cinna. This time, though, Peeta wasn't there to calm me, and I knew seeking words of kindness from Gale would be wild goose chase. Especially now that I'd be off on tour in who knows how long. It was still fairly early, the sky still a deep blue with only a few streaks of pink signaling dawn. I figured now would be as good a time as any to go for a walk.<p>

I left a note for Greasy Sae that she need only make breakfast for herself and closed the door carefully, as if afraid I'd wake the other houses in the Village. I'm not sure how it happened, but my walk turned into a knock, and the next thing I knew I was standing in Peeta's doorway, words escaping the both of us as we tried to explain the situation we now found ourselves in. Silently he ushered me into the front room where I sat on the couch. He disappeared into the kitchen, returning later with some tea. I don't remember it being cold outside, but I hadn't really focused on anything so it shouldn't have surprised me when he draped the blanket over my shivering shoulders.

We didn't speak for a long time. I sat, hands wrapped around my tea, watching the steam rise as the heat coursed through my palms. Peeta took a sip every now and then, but I could tell he was taking it slow just in case he had to respond quickly. I glanced over at him without moving my head and saw that he'd turned his body toward me in an open gesture. I took advantage of this quickly, scooting in and leaning against him. He acted surprised, but I know he'd hoped I'd take that liberty. He reached out and set down his tea to free his hands and started stroking my hair.

"Do you think you're ready for a tour?" I wasn't entirely sure if he knew about the tour, but I figured he'd have to find out one way or another.

"I'm sure I'll manage." He started twirling a piece of my hair between his fingers. "What about you?"

"I slept through the night last night."

"That's not what I asked."

I didn't answer and took a small sip of my tea. It had been cooling, but it was still warm enough to send a pulse through my body. "With the right amount of preparation, I can survive anything." I knew he was smiling even without looking at him. I smiled, too, and reached my hand up to my hair where it found his, tangling its fingers amongst his. I'm not sure how long we stayed there, curled together on his couch, hand-in-hand. It felt like that evening on the roof of the Training Center, watching the sunset together.

"I wish I could freeze this moment and live in it forever," I said, smiling even wider as I felt his hand tighten around mine.


	3. Chapter 3

i apologize for my absence. there are plenty of excuses in the world, but what it really boils down to is pure laziness. so, while i can't make any promises, i can most certainly try to keep a better rhythm going with this story.

-ws

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><p><em>I stood motionless in the rain, heaving. I'd used up all my air screaming into the thunder, all of my patience crying into the rain. I ground my teeth together, tasting the dirt. My face and clothes were stained with mud, my fingernails were bleeding from moving the unwilling earth. At my feet rested the destroyed primrose bushes Peeta had planted in remembrance of the young woman my actions killed.<em>

* * *

><p>I woke a few hours later to the sound of pots and pans. A quick survey of my surroundings showed I was still on Peeta's couch, wrapped in a blanket and leaning against a stack of pillows no doubt made to resemble a human's presence. The smell of eggs and bacon made its way in through the kitchen, and my stomach directed me onward before my feet even knew what was happening. This resulted in a rather graceless roll from the couch, a thud from my head meeting the floor, and a string of hissed curses as I struggled against the cocoon of blanket around me. Peeta was at my side in seconds, lifting my head and helping unwrap the blanket.<p>

"Are you alright?" He mindlessly poked at the red spot on my forehead, thus receiving a swift swat on the wrist.

"I was..." I said, tenderly caressing the now even more irritated portion of my face.

He chuckled as he stood. "How many times have you faced death? And a mere blanket betters you?" I scowled, standing before he could offer me a hand. His outstretched palm, though, didn't disappear once I'd gained my footing. And it was oh, so tempting. I must've stared at it too long, though, because with a sigh he let it fall to his side. "I have breakfast."

We sat at his kitchen table silently for quite a while, eating as though the other was just another piece of furniture. My mind wandered to Sae and the note I'd left, to Haymitch and becoming the Mockingjay, and back to Peeta. I glanced up to see his eyes on me as if he'd followed my train of thought word for word. Neither of us said anything about the tour, but we both knew the other was thinking of nothing else.

"Looks like a storm's brewing." He said, finally, his gaze easing toward the window.

_Tell me about it. You, Gale, the tour...and I've only just gotten past the nightmares. _"Hmm."

* * *

><p>I went to the forest. Not to the rendezvous, but to the small clearing I'd shared with my father all those years ago. I twirled one of my bootlaces between my fingers while I waited, hoping that he'd show up. I used to do this every once in a while, wake up early before a hunt and sit at the clearing, waiting for my father. It didn't make me feel better about losing him, it wasn't a way to cope. But those hours spent watching the trees and hoping he'd one day come walking towards me with open arms were the most peaceful I could remember.<p>

I didn't move much, just spent the time listening to the grass under potential game and the trees as they protested the sudden urgency in the wind. My ears went on alert. Footfall. The Games were over, the war had ended, but my guard could not be let down. People were still enraged by my actions, and I'm more than certain some wanted me dead. I loaded my bow and faced the approaching sound.

"I'm not armed." He said plainly.

I relaxed. "So loud for a hunter. I hardly recognized you."

Gale approached me, hands up despite my downward arrow. I slung my bow over my shoulder and replaced the arrow in the quiver. He let his hands fall. This action made me uneasy. Why was he suddenly so defensive with me? I could never think of shooting him.

His motion slowed, but he didn't stop walking toward me. His eyes locked on mine and I started to feel uncomfortable, but I remained rooted where I stood. "Did you follow me?" I asked. No response. "How long have you been out there?" Still nothing. "Seriously, Gale, what's going—"

He grabbed my chin and pulled my face to his, locking me in a kiss even more powerful than the one we'd shared months prior. When I objected rather lamely he refused my release, at which point I found myself lost in the moment. My arms wound around his neck, his around my waist. The passion in the moment was overwhelming. Then, rather suddenly, he pulled back and away. He turned and began walking briskly back the way he came.

I stood in pure shock for a moment before I spluttered his name. "Gale?" My voice cracked, as if to beg him to come back. He stopped, and when he spoke I could here the smile in his voice.

"See you at dinner."

He won this round.

* * *

><p>The entire hunt was an out of body experience. I watched Katniss snare rabbits and squirrels, and watched her stalk a deer only to lose it to the sound of thunder. I watched her walk back to where the fence once was, and I watched as she smiled almost giddily on her walk home.<p>

When I took control of my body again, about half way back to the Victor's Village, the weight began to set in. My heart ached in a way a medicinal remedy would not cure. Half of it belonged to my best friend, who captured my deepest emotions and passions, and the other half belonged to the man who felt like my partner...my companion. These men both meant so much in different ways...how could they expect me to choose? Wouldn't it just be best if we remained friends, and lived our lives simply? I shook my head. How stupid could I be to think that our lives would ever be simple? We were tangled in each others' lives...in each others' worlds.

The world as I knew it, however, would soon come to a screeching hault.

The rain felt as though it were cutting into my face as I ran the rest of the way home. I was greeted with a wide-open front door, the hallway light streaming into the rain and muck outside. Gale was in my living room. His arrival was a bit more announced than Haymitch's had been, with tracks of mud streaking through the open front door to the open living room door. A vase had met his rage, apparently, and lay shattered on hallyway the floor, the wilted rose it held crumbling into the runner. I could hear raised voices through the hallway. I knew exactly why he was there, and it had nothing to do with our dinner plans.

"You drunk old bastard!" Something crashed.

Apparently Haymitch had stopped by, as well.

"Mangy little creature!" A loud thud.

At any other time I'd have shouted at the both of them for inviting themselves in while I was out, but considering Gale had thrown the word "tour" around a good four times before I even made it halfway down the hall, I figured I'd let it pass. Instead I entered the living room and let my game bag slam to the floor rather forcefully, announcing my arrival.

"Enough!" The two stopped mid-motion. Gale set down what looked like a coaster and Haymitch set his flask down on the bookshelf. Neither had any intention of taking responsibility for the overturned coffee table, I was sure.

Gale shot a horrible glare in my direction, but ignored me otherwise. "Really, though, Haymitch. You honestly expect Katniss to _tour?_ After what happened last time?"

"Last time was different."

"That doesn't matter! _People_ still want her dead! _People_ still don't trust her!" His emphasis spoke volumes.

"Well those _people_ will be kept under close surveillance! Did you really think we'd go about this half-assed? We know what kind of danger we're facing." I hadn't even noticed him pick his flask back up, but he tossed his head back and guzzled. From the sound of it, he'd drained it.

"You don't know anything, old man. You'd throw her safety to the wind if it meant another fifteen minutes of fame for yourself."

"Gale, enough!" He stared at me, wide-eyed. "Your anger is getting the best of you." I reasoned, trying to return my voice to some kind of calm.

"So now you're standing up for him? The man who wants to send you into the recovering districts, where people still debate whether or not you should be executed? Where people plot of doing you in themselves?"

"It's not all my idea, boy," Haymitch said through a hiccup. "Paylor wants the districts to know the Mockingjay is still-"

"Forget the damn Mockingjay!" The coaster hit Haymitch square in the gut.

I'd had enough. The events of the afternoon felt like years ago, the Gale from the forest seemed to have vanished. How could he expect to gain any ground like this? Throwing things at my mentor, ignoring me like it was my decision to take off on this awful tour?

"There's really not much of a choice, Gale!" I shouted. I realized instantly that these were the wrong words. This conversation was not about the tour at all. On the surface it may have been. On the surface Gale may have been legitimately concerned for my safety. But that wasn't the case at all.

His face was horrifying. He shook his head and moved toward the door, only stopping beside me for a moment to say,

"Well then I'd hate to influence your decision."

And with that he was gone.

* * *

><p>The weather roared around me. I stood motionless in the rain, heaving. I'd used up all my air screaming into the thunder, all of my patience crying into the rain. I ground my teeth together, tasting the dirt. My face and clothes were stained with mud, my fingernails were bleeding from moving the unwilling earth. My audience of two stood some feet away, having given up all efforts to stop me. Haymitch, swaying from the wind and the drink, stained from trying to pull me away from the flower bed, and Peeta. He'd heard me screaming in between rolls of thunder and come to help, only to find me tearing apart the gift he'd given me. Every time he'd tried to stop me, or pull me away from the flowers I'd lashed out at him, screaming and howling at a loss for words. I clawed at the ground for close to an hour, soaked through with rain and rage. Finally, after a moment of standing still, he approached me again with far more caution. His arms opened, ready to take me into an embrace.<p>

I put my hand up, never turning to meet his gaze.

"Just leave."

I walked into my house without another word and locked the front door.

* * *

><p>i know it's short and it's messy. but once again laziness has played a role. hopefully this can hold you over until i get back into a writing groove.<p>

-ws


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